Wishful Thinking
by zarabithia
Summary: Adam and Adora's longing catches up to them.


**Wishful Thinking**

**Rating: R/M**

**Genre: Romance, Angst**

**Summary: Adam and Adora's longings catch up to them. Sequel to "Sometimes I Forget" and "Familiar Pain."**

**Warning: This is an Adam/Adora pairing. If that squicks you (and it probably should) too much, don't read! There are lots of nasty thoughts, and a few bad words found herein. You've been warned.**

* * *

Sea Hawk's kisses taste like saltwater, smoke, and fish. His kisses also lack in technique. They are as rough as the image he likes to project to everyone he comes in contact with. His touches are equally rough, and have the added bonus of being awkward. Though I'm not quite certain _why _he's awkward. His reputation precedes him, and he's far from being a virgin.

You'd think with all the women that have passed though his bed, at least one of them would have mentioned that a breast and an arm require different types of strokes. But maybe it never came up.

His tongue is in my ear, and I wonder if I'm supposed to find that appealing. I return the gesture, and apparently, he does.

Happily, it also makes him change his technique. He concentrates on the space between my legs, and as he begins to massage – still roughly – he whispers, "How's this?"

"Wonderful," I say, knowing full well it's a lie and not feeling bad about it.

What else could I do? Telling him the truth – that there's somewhere else I'd far rather be – would break his heart, and Sea Hawk is a good, gentle, and kind man. The kind I should be happy to be with.

Besides, it's hardly his fault I feel this way.

* * *

I wish I could remember this courtier's name.

Rebecca? No, that's not right. Rhianna? Doesn't sound right either. Rina? No, that was the name of the lieutenant I sparred with today. I think.

At any rate, her name begins with an R. I am almost sure of it. Wish I could remember the rest of the letters.

Whoever she is, she has absolutely beautiful shoulder-length blond hair, which is perfect for running my fingers through. She also has a lovely set of blue eyes, which somehow seem more shallow than they should. After all, given the conversation we had _before _we ended up in my bed, she's well versed in several languages, loves history, and enjoys hiking.

Everything I like, in other words, the courtier enjoys as well. It's convenient. I haven't decided yet if it's _too_ convenient.

Probably. Or maybe Mother-dear sweet Mother who can always see right through me - was right today when she said I needed to spend more time with women _other _than Adora. Maybe it's been too long since I've attempted to engage other women. Maybe I've forgotten how they work.

But, guessing from the courtier's moans, I haven't forgotten too much.

"_Your highness," _she half says, half sighs.

"It's _Adam," _I remind her, sighing myself as I do so, not entirely out of pleasure.

"_A-Adam," _she responds.

Now that we've established what my name is, it'd be awfully nice if she'd remind me of hers.

* * *

Try as I might to prevent it, my thoughts wander to Adam almost the instant Sea Hawk enters me. I think of how gentle his touch would be in contrast; of how his large hands feel when they're wrapped around my waist; the way he swells beneath me when we ride Swift Wind or Battle Cat. It's terrible that those thoughts alone make me moan with greater enthusiasm than all of Sea Hawk's efforts thus far.

"Adora."

Oh, I wish he would shut up. His voice makes it difficult to concentrate.

I close my eyes in an effort to shut out the sound of Hawk's voice. It helps immediately. The combination of my Adam-laden thoughts and Hawk's efforts –

Oh, Adam, dear sweet Adam.

* * *

For the love of the Ancients, this is the noisiest courtier I've _ever _been with. I wonder if she's trying to let _everyone _in the palace know what we're doing.

Probably.

It's too bad, because approximately two minutes ago realized _why _I picked this courtier. In the dark, she can pass for the one I really want. Even with her gratingly high voice, it's not hard to imagine that it's Adora moving underneath me. It's Adora's mouth that I kiss, Adora's neck that I nibble, Adora's skin that I taste.

It's also Adora's voice I hear in my head. It takes a few seconds to realize the last one isn't my imagination.

The feel of Adam's voice in my head is a familiar one. I've heard it frequently, usually while one or both of us are in danger. It's also usually something that happens while we're dreaming. It's a testament to the power of our bond that it can travel planets and solar systems.

/_Adam./ I_ concentrate on our bond, and I see a dark bedroom, glimpses of naked skin, and hear the sound of the sweetest moans I've ever heard. /_Adam./ _

_/Adora./ _Our bond allows me to sense his excitement, his confusion, and how utterly out of breath he is. _/Adora./ _The want I've been seeing increase over the past few months is achingly evident.

It occurs to me that Adam is in the middle of doing the same thing that I'm doing. The mere thought fills me with jealously. It also makes me fight harder to maintain the bond.

As Adam's presence in my mind grows, the speed of my thrusts increase as well.

* * *

Adora's fucking someone else.

Part of me wants to be jealous. But that part is overruled by the part that's reveling in every new sensation that our bond is producing.

_/Adora./ _She's so very close. . .I can sense the arousal, the want, the need, and the frustration of my sister. It only becomes harder to control myself.

And then the moment ends – and all I can sense is a burst of utter pleasure. The courtier has climaxed twice, so I allow myself release.

Almost immediately, the bond ends. I guess that makes sense – it's never something we've been able to do under normal circumstances. It takes a little longer, however, for the guilt to set in. But once it hits, there's plenty to be guilty about – the shameless way I've used the poor woman in my bed, the fact that I've practically had _sex with my own twin, _and worst of all, that I can't keep from counting down the moments until we can do it again.

* * *

When it's over, Hawk excuses himself, and I can't find any remorse at the fact.

I'm far too busy having remorse for _other things. _In fact, remorse is pretty low on my list of things to feel. It's just below satisfaction, frustration, and longing to see Adam in person.

But how am I ever supposed to look at him again, after what we've done?

* * *

The End.

Feedback is better than chocolate! And without the calories. Even if you just want to tell me I'm a horrible perv who is truly corrupting the spirit of cartoon characters. :)


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